


Light of My Life, Fire of My Loins

by KetamineKendra



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Finding your way, M/M, Masturbation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Trans Character, author did their best to make things as respectful as possible, author is not trans but is nb, trans!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-09-29 00:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KetamineKendra/pseuds/KetamineKendra
Summary: Peter is Spiderman but, hey, let's be honest. Life in the Big Apple isn't easy and it certainly isn't cheap. How is a boy to make ends meet?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, bitchesssss

Peter never thought of how he related to the world growing up. He liked short hair and clothes he could move in, he liked learning about bugs and those send-away chemistry sets. Everything was going fine until he hit twelve, when Aunt May insisted he start to wear a bra and started talking to him about menstruation. 

He had his first panic attack that night. 

Suddenly, it was all he could think about. He looked at the high school girls that walked by his school on the way to their own and he wondered if that was what he was supposed to be. Wearing skirts and makeup and long hair, flirting with boys and exchanging makeup tip. Every time he thought about it, he started feeling his heart race and his mouth get dry. 

Maybe it would have been different if he was looking at other girls. Those ones that don't give a damn about performing femininity in a 'traditional' way. Maybe it would have been different, but Peter personally thought it would have just taken longer to get to the same place. 

He started claiming he was sick all the time, so completely anxious that he couldn't convince himself out of bed. It helped that he'd get so nauseous he'd be sick. Aunt May took him to doctors appointment after appointment, trying to figure out what had happened to her healthy niece to make her so sick suddenly. Finally, his pediatrician recommended therapy for suspected anxiety. 

Rounds of tests to check his hormones and appointments to talk about what had him so stressed followed. Peter couldn't tell Meghan what was going on, though. All he could imagine was the look of horror on her face when he said he didn't want to be a girl. She would obviously think he was a freak, right? So he kept it inside. 

He was thirteen when he met Lucinda. She was the new neighbor in their apartment building, having moved into the apartment just across the hall. She was tall for a woman, easily six feet, and she always wore the most fashionable clothes and heels. Peter thought she was sweet, always helping Aunt May with groceries when she came in. 

One night, he found her stumbling into the apartment building, her pretty white blouse ripped and covered in tiny little drops of drying blood. There was a bandage spread across her nose and butterfly bandages holding her split brows together over black eyes. He immediately went to help her into the building and up the flight of stairs to their apartments. "Are you okay? What happened?" 

Lucinda wrapped her arm around his shoulders and let him help. "Oh, just one of the dangers of being trans, hon. Not everyone likes a woman that was a boys national basketball champion in high school." 

Peter didn't understand everything she said, but he knew that he didn't like it. He didn't like the thought of someone beating up Lucinda, a sweet woman that was never anything less than kind. He helped her into her apartment and got her a bag of ice wrapped in a hand towel as she changed into pajamas. He didn't leave her apartment until she was falling asleep on her couch, watching Say Yes to the Dress. 

Then, he let himself out and into his own apartment where he opened up his laptop and typed into a Google Chrome incognito tab the words 'women that used to be boys'. 

That was the night his eyes opened. He spent hours researching what being trans meant, looking into the science of it and the psychology behind it. When he stumbled onto a page full of forums, he lost hours reading personal accounts. He cried, seeing so much of how he felt in there. 

The next day, he had an appointment with Meghan. Unlike other days, he wasn't quiet and obviously unhappy. He was excited. His eyes had been opened to so much more than just the fact that trans people existed. He started noticing things he'd mostly ignored before. All the colorful flags hanging from people's windows, the resource centers. And, when he'd walked in today, he'd noticed that just to the side of Meghan's door, there was a little sticker, about the size of his palm. There was an upside down pink triangle in it, surrounded by a green circle. To one side, there were rainbow stripes. To the other, blue and white and pink. On top, it simply read 'safe space'. All the nerves he'd felt when Aunt May was walking him to the door evaporated. 

Peter didn't wait for her to start. He just spilled. He told her about Lucinda and about his research and how he'd been hating his body and how he knew it was going to change and how it already had. When he left that appointment, he had a text message full of various resources, links to websites and buildings. Meghan had even asked him if he wanted her to start referring to him as a boy. They'd discussed nonbinary identities and pronoun choices. He'd told her that it was worth a try. 

He spent a couple months on it. He did research and he made his way to a resource center, where he talked to an older trans man. For the first time in two years, Peter didn't hate his skin. He had found people that understood him and a whole network of people that wanted him to flourish, as himself and not as what people expected of him. 

Meghan offered to mediate his coming out. By that time, Peter had already chosen his name, and she was using it any time they were alone. It sent a little thrill through him every time. That was his _name_. He knew that what was in front of him wasn't easy, but he knew that if he wanted to survive, he had to do it. 

Uncle Ben didn't take it badly, but he didn't take it well, either. He was more neutral than anything else. Peter knew that it was because Ben always thought things through thoroughly. He was worried, but it was nice that he didn't have an instinctive need to yell or be angry about it, not that those were all that characteristic for his uncle. 

Aunt May, though, she cried. Peter worried that she was angry with him or disgusted, but when she finally got herself under control, she wiped her tears and looked at him. "This is going to be so hard for you. I wish the world would be kind to you but I know that it's not going to be easy. And I can't protect you from it." 

Peter hugged her. He told her that he could handle the world being mean, but he just needed to know she was still in his corner. Her answer was a simple 'of course, baby. How could I leave?' 

After everyone was a little more calm, Meghan smiled at them. "So, he has chosen a name. It would be very helpful if he were to hear it at home, as there is innumerable research showing that support for his identity will do a lot to minimize the dysphoria." 

"What is it?" Ben looked at him, but he seemed to be coming to terms with it. 

Peter cleared his throat. "Peter. Peter Benjamin." A tear started in Uncle Ben's eye, but he cleared his throat and looked away. 

After that, he realized how much his Aunt and Uncle loved him. They were both instantly in his corner. Aunt May started finding doctors that specialized in trans youth, researching everything she could about everything. They had serious talks about what he wanted in the future. Being so young, he wouldn't be allowed to do HRT, but that was okay. All three of them agreed that that was a huge step that shouldn't be approached lightly. But when Aunt May discovered there was a puberty blocker medication? All it took was the relieved look on Peter's face when he heard about it before she was hounding the doctors for it. 

Uncle Ben took him shopping, just walking through a department store. They bought the clothes he would need right then, jeans and tee shirts and sweaters. But Ben also took him through the other departments. He told him what he knew about how to dress for job interviews and the way a properly fitted suit jacket should look. Peter had no idea why he needed to know those things, considering he was only almost fourteen, but he wasn't going to stop him. He was enjoying it. 

Once he got a new haircut - a proper boys haircut and not a 'pixie', he felt like a new person. Since he was going to be living socially as a boy, they went through the process of legally changing his name and changing his schools, into one that was known for being much more queer friendly. 

Life was good.


	2. Chapter 2

Life as a trans boy in high school wasn't exactly a walk in the park. He was targeted by bullies for being small and for being trans. But he refused to hide it. He was proud of who he was. They couldn't take that away from him. 

Of course, everything changed at fifteen. He went on the field trip and was bitten by a spider, and Peter's whole world flipped upside down. Almost literally, as he jumped to the ceiling on accident the morning after. 

And then Uncle Ben died and things weren't so sweet anymore. It was like living with a black hole for the first year. Peter and May were there for each other, they comforted each other and tried to cheer each other up, but they both felt the absence keenly. 

The bright spot in all of it was when his doctors agreed to let him get off the puberty blockers and onto testosterone. They told him that they had started the blockers early enough that the testosterone should make his chest look just like a cismans, as he hadn't developed much breast tissue at all. 

Life moves on, of course. Peter made friends, got a girlfriend, broke up with the girlfriend, lost both his best friend and his ex-girlfriend in a fight because one went crazy and killed the other. 

By the time Peter was twenty one and living on his own, he felt like his whole life had been one tragedy after another, with only enough bright spots to make him not completely lose his mind. 

One night, Peter made his way into his apartment, the little shit hole that he could barely afford, after patrol where he'd kicked some major ass with Deadpool. The few times he'd had run ins with the Avengers, they always warned him to stay away from him, but he didn't listen. Because Deadpool, yeah, he was a bit of a loose canon and Peter spent a good chunk of their time together telling him not to kill anyone, but he was also freakishly smart, funny, and kind. 

Also generous when it came to food after patrol, which someone like Peter, who hadn't opened his fridge in weeks because there was nothing in there, could definitely appreciate. He had a huge appetite, thanks to his powers and to the testosterone he took once every two weeks. 

He made sure the window was closed and locked and the curtains drawn, then reached for his light switch. Nothing happened, no matter how many times he flicked it. "Mother fucker." He groaned and then made his way to the bedroom. Peeling himself out of the suit, he dropped it into his laundry basket and then pulled off his underwear, tossing his packer on top of his dresser.

Wearing a packer was something he only did as Spiderman. He'd had years to come to terms with the fact that he was a man with a vagina. There was a well known porn star that was the same. He knew, he'd seen the videos. He'd played with the idea of the surgery to create a penis for himself, but he didn't really need it. He was comfortable with his body, something he was completely amazed by. But Spiderman couldn't be trans because that was one more piece of the puzzle of figuring out who he was. Besides, he didn't really need to hear bad guys calling him slurs if they knew, and he knew they would. 

Naked now, he moved to the bathroom. He took a shower in the dark, in cold water because of course the water heater was out, too, and then dropped into bed in a pair of pajama pants. At least it was still spring so he wouldn't freeze to death with no power. 

In the morning, he grabbed his laptop and went to the coffee shop on the corner. He ordered a single black coffee, small, with lots of room for cream. After he doctored it up with six sugars and enough creamer to turn it practically white, he settled at a table. 

He could find a job in a heartbeat, but it was never a good one and he very rarely got to keep it for more than a few months. No sooner than he got settled into a new job would a new villain show up and knock him around so bad that he missed shifts and ended up fired. It was a pain in the ass. And the more it happened, the more new potential jobs were less willing to hire him in the first place. At this point, his prospects were getting slimmer and slimmer. 

It didn't help that he was in school. And really, what was the point in that? He loved science and he was pursuing a degree in biophysics, but what was he going to do with it? How was he supposed to work a job in the field while he was still Spiderman? He couldn't give that up. 

Groaning, he laid his head down on the table. Why was life so hard? 

"What's up, buttercup?" 

MJ sat across from him. Peter looked up at her and blinked. Were they supposed to meet today? He didn't remember, but he wasn't actually sure. "Huh?" 

She laughed. "I just saw you through the window and decided to come in. How's it going?" 

Peter groaned again and pressed his face back into the table. It smelled like coffee, sanitizer, and wood polish. Not an altogether pleasant smell, but it wasn't bad, per se. 

"That bad, huh?" When Peter groaned again, louder, she laughed again. "I still say you should come work with me at Paradise." Lifting his head, Peter made a vague gesture at all of himself. "Oh, you act like no one would be interested. You're pretty hot. And if it's the trans thing, you know Paradise is a queer club."

And that was how, three days later, instead of leaving for patrol and meeting up with Deadpool to beat up bad guys and maybe score a free meal, Peter was at Paradise, psyching himself up to get up on stage for amateur night at a strip club. MJ had helped him get ready, adding a little bit of eyeliner that made his eyes look huge and some glitter to strategic parts of his body. She'd also insisted that he wear a pair of gold booty shorts, which like, he hadn't worn anything this revealing outside of his own home ever in his life. 

Getting on stage, though, was kind of a thrill. At first, he was nervous. He felt awkward, dancing around in glorified underwear with his trans flag tattoo in easy view on his right bicep, but he got into it. He pulled on a but of the Spidey persona, getting flirtatious and sassy. 

And holy shit. He walked off stage with two hundred dollars and three free drink cards. He counted the money four times before he finally realized it was real and wasn't going to disappear out of his hands. By that time, MJ came back to see what he was doing. Since it was amateur night, none of the main dancers were on stage until a lot later, so she was picking up money as a waitress, wearing fishnets and tiny black shorts with a lingerie top. "You did great! Why aren't you out celebrating? Use some of those drink coupons." 

Peter laughed and pulled on his regular clothes, knowing he was about to have to deal with glitter in his laundry for months. But he didn't care. He just made two hundred bucks in five minutes! It was time to celebrate. 

In two weeks time, he had a regular slot, Tuesdays and Thursdays. He was also allowed to sign up for serving shifts, after the manager figured out he wasn't going to drop trays of food and drinks on any customers. 

Of course, he wasn't going to tell May what his new job was. She would think he was doing it because he was desperate, which he was, and not because he liked it, which he did. 

So, yeah. Peter Parker was Spiderman and a stripper, and he was enjoying life again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stripper Peter!


	3. Chapter 3

The job at Paradise was great because it was flexible and he didn't have to work long hours to make good money. However, it wasn't really enough money to be set. He couldn't work more hours because he was a junior dancer, and he wouldn't want to force anyone out of their places anyway. 

Mostly, the job just meant that he could pay his bills, with just enough left over that sometimes he could afford to eat a can of Campbell's instead of just Top Ramen. Honestly, Peter was so sick of soup that when he had dinner with Aunt May or when Deadpool bought them food, it took an extreme amount of self control not to sob in gratitude. 

He'd just settled on the rooftop, watching his city as he waited for Deadpool to show, when his stomach growled. Not like the quiet one that only people really close would hear, but one of those big ones that sounded like a caged tiger. His last bag of ramen had been chewed into by mice, so he obviously hadn't eaten it. He planned to hit up the bodega by his house still in the suit on the way home. As much as he hated to use it to his advantage, sometimes the guy that owned him would undercharge him and throw in a few pieces of bruised fruit for free. And God, fresh fruit sounded so good. What he'd give for a pint of strawberries right now. 

Yeah, thinking about food wasn't stopping his stomach from making those noises. 

"Jesus, baby boy, when's the last time you ate? A growing spider like you needs three well rounded meals a day." Deadpool settled beside him. 

Peter groaned. "Mice got into my last bag of ramen." There was silence beside him, long enough that he looked over at his friend. "What?" 

Wade shook his head. "I'm sorry, there's just a lot to unpack in that sentence. You live somewhere that has mice, which, gross. They're cute but they should be pets, not house guests. Two, you're talking about a _bag_ of ramen. And like, also gross. Ramen should be authentic, none of that sodium overdosing 'flavor packet' bullshit."

Peter shoved him, feeling himself blush under the mask. "Yeah, all that sounds great, but I just barely manage to make enough money to cover my bills. There's really not a lot left over for authentic ramen and mice for pets." 

Before Deadpool could respond to that, Peter heard a noise and it was off to fight crime. After that conversation, though, Deadpool was even more generous with food. He'd buy them snacks three times a patrol and he'd show up with leftovers that he 'just can't fucking look at anymore, I already ate so much. Do me a favor and eat them for me.' 

Peter was eating more than ever, but he was still starving all the time. The way his metabolism worked, he knew he should be eating six or seven thousand calories a day. He was just barely hitting three thousand now. So, yeah, definitely better than the one or so he was getting before, but his body still needed more. 

They'd just finished patrol when Deadpool invited him over to his apartment. "I've got this sick ass dinner I want to make but it's going to take a while and I'm lazy as hell when I'm just cooking for me. So, I figured, why not invite a friend? Then they can enjoy it and I'll cook it and who couldn't use a little good food?" 

And Peter was a sucker for free food. So, he found himself sitting in a baggy sweater that Deadpool had leant him, as well as a pair of pajama pants, his suit hanging over the bar in the shower. He still had his mask on, though it was pulled up over his nose. They were talking while Deadpool did seriously impressive things in the kitchen. Chicken marsala and garlic cheese mashed potatoes, a kick ass salad, and homemade garlic bread were set out in time. Peter looked at it, his mouth watering. 

As much as Aunt May had taught him manners, he couldn't force himself to adhere to it when Deadpool sat in front of him, really not stopping his steady stream of conversation as he stuffed his face. Peter did the same. God, it was good. 

Then, Peter almost choked. "What?" 

Deadpool set down his fork and wiped his scarred fingers carefully on a piece of paper towel. "I said, I have a proposition for you, baby boy." 

The word 'proposition' had heat flooding his face. Was Deadpool going to ask him for sex? And, look, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it before. The man was large and muscular, he looked like he could fuck for days at a time, and the idea of him slamming into Peter the whole time sounded fantastic. He'd also definitely wondered, as DP would put it, 'what that mouth do'. "Um?" 

Deadpool seemed to realize the way it sounded. "Okay, no. Not like that. Like. Yeah, like that, but also no because trust me, this shit is just the tip of the very ugly, very freaky iceberg." He pointed at the scarring that Peter could see on his face, his neck and chin and the bottoms of his cheeks under the pulled up mask. "No, I want to be your sugar daddy. Or, like. Sugar buddy? I think I saw a meme about that the other day." 

Peter set down his fork. "What?" 

"God, I can't even keep myself on track. Damn it, Douchepool, we practiced this." He smacked himself hard, and then seemed to have renewed focus when he looked at Peter again. "So, I know that, like, 'traditionally'," He actually raised his hands and made air quotes. "Traditionally, a sugar daddy would be like basically paying for sex. Which, like, I don't want to do that. You're not a prostitute. Not that there's anything wrong with prostitutes. Sex work is real work and we should really be doing more to protect our ladies, gents, and nonbinary folx of the night, but I DIGRESS." He actually shouted, making Peter blink at him. "The fact of the matter is, Spidey, you desperately need money. I have a shit load of money. So like, let me give it to you? For whatever you want. If you want to come over and clean my apartment, fine. You want to accept money just for hanging out with me outside of patrol - masks expected and appreciated, of course - that's fine, too. You pick the service you provide, I pick the salary it's worth."

Okay, yeah, the whole situation was a little fucked. Arguably one of his best friends was asking for him to accept money from him because he felt bad for how broke he was. It was a little off putting. It was also incredibly sweet. Deadpool was doing his best to go about helping him in whatever way Peter would be comfortable with it. That honestly meant a lot. Peter smiled a little bit and picked his fork back up. "That's really sweet of you, but it's kind of a big decision. Can I have a few days to think about it?" 

"Of course!" Deadpool smiled, wide and sincere, then went back to eating. 

After he left Deadpool's apartment, with a bag of leftovers, he made his way to his own and laid in bed after a shower. What was he going to do with this offer? The rational part of his brain was saying he shouldn't even contemplate it, just turn him down flat. But he was thinking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we gonna have a sugar baby???


	4. Chapter 4

"So, what would you do if someone offered to be your sugar daddy?" Peter was three days into thinking about it but wasn't any closer to making a decision. He needed MJs expert advice. 

"In this economy? I'd take my check and then sit on that dick." 

Peter blinked at her. She'd certainly started speaking more colorfully since working at the club. "You wouldn't feel bad about it? Awkward?" 

"Peter, who offered to be your sugar daddy?" 

Bah. MJ was too smart. He glanced around and made sure that no one was listening. "Deadpool. But like, he doesn't even require sex. He just wants to pay me for 'whatever service I want to provide' or something." 

"Oo, he doesn't want to be Peter Parker's sugar daddy, he wants to be Spiderman's." MJ took a drink of her iced coffee, obviously thinking. "I mean, I doubt he needs a nerd to help him with his homework, so what other skills do you have? Maybe you could clean? I'd say cook, but you might manage to kill him and then the money is gone, not to mention your friend." she shrugged. "So what service do you want to provide?" 

"I don't even know if I want to do it at all!" 

"Well, obviously you kinda do. If you didn't, you wouldn't be asking me about it. You'd have already told him no." 

Peter opened his mouth to object, but she popped the last of her croissant in his mouth. He chewed it while he glared, but it gave him a minute to think. Yeah, he wouldn't still be thinking about it if he didn't want to do it. So what _did_ he want to do? 

It took a week after making his decision to accept the proposition to come up with the 'terms of service' he was comfortable with. But by then, he was so sick of thinking about it that he didn't want to wait to talk about it. He left early for patrol and swung to Deadpool's apartment, knocking on the window. 

A body jumped off the couch and he was suddenly faced with a gun pointed at him. Peter didn't even have time to move his hands up in surrender before the lights were shut off in the apartment and then the window was opening. He'd just caught a bare glimpse of bare, scarred shoulders and a bald head before the sight was gone. "Spidey! You can't just sneak up on a man. You could have died." 

"Sorry. I didn't even think that I might surprise you." Peter climbed into the apartment and then looked away from Deadpool, sensing his distress. "I just wanted to talk to you and didn't want to wait." 

Deadpool was disappearing deeper into the apartment. "Sure thing, Webs, just let me change. I'll be right back." Peter waited, fidgeting in the living room, for him to come back. When he was back in the room, he was bristling with weapons in his Deadpool suit. "Alright, baby boy, hit me with it. Don't tell me you wanted to get Chinese tonight, though, because my heart is set on chimis and tamales." 

"Uh, what? No, Mexican is fine." He fidgeted. "I just, um, you know. That.. Thing you brought up, before? With the.. Sugar." God, he sounded like a fucking mess. 

"Yes?" Deadpool was still, now. Just watching him. 

Peter swallowed. "I want to accept it. And I know what I'm willing to give you for it." 

Deadpool put his hands on his hips. "Out with it." 

He flipped him off as he sighed. "Hanging out. I'd like to hang out with you, when I can, in our masks. And." This was the part he was embarrassed about. He was just grateful he had the mask still firmly on his face so Deadpool couldn't see him blush. Thankfully, the man in question was waiting patiently for him to continue. "Some sex… Stuff."

"Some sex stuff?" Deadpool didn't sound like he was turning him down, more like he was confused. Which, yeah, Peter understood. 'Sex stuff' wasn't very descriptive. 

Peter nodded. "Like.. I'll give you a hand job or a blow job. But I won't have sex with you and you can't touch me beyond a kiss." That had honestly been a shitty decision on his part. As much as he would have liked to ride Deadpool's dick into the sunset, he wasn't ready to tell him his identity, not any part of it. And it would be very hard to explain the whole trans thing without giving away any of his identity. So. No sex. Sadly. 

Deadpool crossed his arms, the fingers on his right hand drumming on his elbow. He was obviously thinking. Which, yeah, it was a little intimidating, but he could wait. He was Spiderman, damn it. He had patience. 

About five minutes into the waiting, he started squirming. That made Deadpool laugh. "Alright, Webs. You got yourself a deal." 

"You asshole. You were just making me wait." 

Deadpool just laughed and then directed them out the window. They still had to patrol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sugar baby!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Just smut.

Weeks went by. Peter was eating better than ever because he spent a lot of time with Wade, both because he was an awesome guy to hang out with, and because he cooked. Peter was able to buy spaghetti makings, though he still didn't do anything too complicated. If it was any more complicated than browning meat and boiling water, he shouldn't be trusted to make it. 

Peter showed up to Deadpool's house on a Wednesday afternoon. He now had permission to come into the bedroom window, as long as he yelled that he was there. Usually Deadpool was hanging out in the living room and it gave him time to throw on a mask and a sweater before Peter came through. It also gave Peter time to get dressed in something other than the suit. As much as he loved the suit, it got pretty stinky if he hung out in it too long. The only thing he kept on was the mask. And he made sure his shirts were always dark so the lines of his tattoo didn't stick out. 

Today, he was going to indulge himself. When he made it into the living room, Deadpool was sitting on the couch in grey sweatpants, a pink tee shirt, a big black hoodie, and the mask. Peter didn't do anything but grab the remote and turn off the TV, which had Deadpool looking at him oddly. "What?" 

"Do we need the lights off for you to take your dick out?" Peter was trying to be commanding, but he was sure the impression was ruined by how high his voice was and the way the bottom of his face was on fire. 

Deadpool was actually a little taken aback. Peter would be worried if he hadn't caught the way his dick twitched in those sinful grey sweats. "I mean. You know it's not pretty. And like I'd be completely understanding if you changed your mind after you saw it. Like I wouldn't want it in my hand, much less my mouth, except I don't really have a choice? Like if I want to get off, I gotta, like, do it."

"Answer the question, please." When Deadpool pulled up his mask, it was obvious he was confused, even if he couldn't see his eyes still. "Lights on or off?" 

"Um, on. Is fine." 

Peter smiled and then stepped close to him, kicking aside the coffee table so he had room. Then, he reached down, yanking at his pants. A part of him worried if this was a problem, if it was okay that he was being so demanding, but when he got the pants off of him, he found that he was probably fine. Deadpool was hard as a rock and dripping precum down his, frankly, monstrous cock. Peter licked his lips. He'd liked giving head ever since the first time he did it. He could already tell he was going to love this. "You can't get anything, right? Your healing factor prevents you from getting any STIs?" Deadpool nodded and then that was all Peter needed. 

He bent down, licking his tongue up his cock, base to tip, tasting the salty skin. The man must have showered within the last couple hours because he didn't smell musky at all. He smelled like strawberries and skin. Good. Peter looked up at him, wondering what his eyes looked like because his teeth were buried in his lip and he was holding the back of the couch with a death grip. Peter smirked and then settled his lips over the crown, sinking down until his cock was pressed to the top of his mouth, just in front of his throat. A strangled sound came out of Deadpool's throat and it was amazing. It was repeated when he started sucking and moving his tongue. And then, when Peter relaxed his throat and took him all the way into his throat, curses exploded out of him. "Shit, Spidey. Fuck, fuck, holy Jesus." 

It wasn't surprising to Peter that it didn't last long after that. Deadpool had already been dripping when he started. When he came, it was almost too much for him to take. He swallowed as much as he could, but he still felt some dripping out of his mouth, two thin lines that dripped down his chin. He pulled off and then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

Deadpool was thrown back on the couch, his head resting on the back of it as he breathed heavily. Peter was watching his dick, wondering how long it would take to get hard again and completely distracted with thoughts on how often he could make himself come on it. "Yeah, I know it's against the rules, but I can't tell you how bad I want to return the favor right now. I bet your cock tastes so good. Bet it would fill my mouth fucking perfectly." 

Oh, yeah. That's why they couldn't do anything else. Peter scrubbed his eyes through the mask, glad that Deadpool wasn't looking at him. He stood up and pulled his mask down over his chin. Then, he patted Deadpool's shoulder. "I'll see you Friday, DP."

"You don't want any food or anything? We can order pizza." 

Peter turned back and then shook his head. "No, I'll be okay." He waved and went into the bedroom, changing back into his suit and slinging his backpack back over his shoulders. The good thing about not actually having a dick was that he could be as turned on as he wanted and he didn't have to worry about a boner, at least in the traditional sense. 

When he got home, he barely got his feet out of his underwear before he was reaching for his bedside table. In the drawer, there was his favorite vibrator and a wonderful silky lube. He spread the lube on the vibrator. Even if he felt like he was wet, being on T made the chances of tearing his vagina much higher and he really didn't want to deal with that. Then, he settled on his back and pulled his knees up, spread wide. 

As much as he wanted to just fuck himself silly, he knew he had a better orgasm when he let it play out slowly. So he took the vibrator, running it over his thighs and his clit. It was slick from the lube, but he didn't care. He closed his eyes, imagine that it was Deadpool over him, his magnificent cock trailing over his skin. When he couldn't take it anymore, he pressed it against his hole, hissing as the skin stretched to accommodate it. It was wide, probably a little wider than Deadpool had been, but he couldn't be sure unless he had them both here. And, honestly, if that were happening he wouldn't give two shits about his vibrator. 

He felt like he was splitting open in the best way. Imagining that it was Deadpool, right there inside him. Maybe he'd grab his legs and force them wider. Peter used the hand not holding the vibrator to push his leg wide, enjoying the stretch of his muscle. He'd have to spread his legs wide to accommodate Deadpool. 

Maybe he'd be mean. Maybe he'd fuck into him, knowing that with his strength, he could take it. He started working the vibrator, in and out of himself, a little harder each time until he could feel tenderness starting from where his wrist was hitting him. Moans were falling out of his mouth, breathless and desperate. It felt so good, but he knew he couldn't come. He just couldn't, no matter how many times he'd tried. He flicked the vibrator on, making sure the clit massager was hitting the right spot. His moans were practically screams now, though he put his hand over his mouth to smother them. He really didn't want his neighbor slamming on the wall and ruining it for him. 

He bit his hand savagely as he came, hoping it was enough to smother the scream of pleasure as he shook and rode out his orgasm. When he was done, he flicked off the vibrator, sliding it out of him as the shocks of overstimulation started. 

Peter breathed heavily as he recovered, and he only had one thought on his mind. It just kept repeating. What was Deadpool's name? How would it sound if he screamed it when he came?


	6. Chapter 6

Since he had dancing shifts on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he didn't patrol. If he stayed to talk with people at the tables, he made more money and generally got drinks. It was worth it to stay. 

For some reason, it had never occurred to him what Wade might do when they weren't patrolling those days. But when he was dancing that night, in a pair of black silk panties and thigh high fishnets, he caught sight of a black hoodie. It was just a black hoodie, but he couldn't help wondering if he recognized it. 

After his dance ended, Neil smiled at him and pointed toward one of the tables in the corner. "You've got a giant ass tip waiting in the register. Gave by the guy in the black hoodie. He wanted me to tell you that you're not obligated to come see his ugly mug." 

Since Neil knew Peter by now, he wasn't surprised when he cashed in his shift drink - a virgin daiquiri because dancers weren't allowed to drink on the clock - and immediately went to go join the man. He slid into the booth across from him, and caught a glimpse of scarred hands before they were pulled down and tucked into the hoodie pockets. "Hey. I'm Porg. I heard you left me a tip. Why would you do something like that for little old me?" 

"Because your dance was fucking phenomenal, but that's not the important bit. I came in after you were introduced. I'm sorry, did you say Porg?" The man's hood did a good job of shadowing his face, but Peter could see the smile and the strong lines of his jaw. And a hint of how the light hit uneven, bumpy, _scarred_ skin. 

Holy shit. He was looking at Deadpool. Peter didn't know if he should be excited or terrified. Did he know who he was talking to? Had he followed him? Did he already know everything about Peter Parker? Before he could let himself panic over that, he smiled and took a sip of his drink. "Yeah. It's the name of these cute little -" 

"The cute, giant eyed fuckers from the new Star Wars." 

Peter smiled, genuine. Trust Deadpool to know it. "Yeah. But yeah, the big eyes. Everyone says it fits." 

He smiled and leaned back in his seat. "It certainly does." 

Still smiling, and feeling a little flirtatious, he leaned forward against the table a little. "And you?" 

"Me what?" 

"Well, you can call me Porg, so what can I call you?" Peter smiled, doing his best to be charming. 

Deadpool seemed a little flustered. "Oh, um, Wade. Wade Wilson." He stuck out his hand for a shake, a slight tremble in it. 

Peter didn't even glance at the scarred skin before he took it to shake. "Wade. Or do you prefer Mr Wilson?" 

A chuckle came out of his mouth and he caught that flash of a bright smile in the depths of the hood. "Oh, sweet cheeks, I'll accept Wade, or daddy, but don't you dare call me Mr Wilson. Mr Wilson was my father and he was an asshole." 

Peter bit his lip, a small blush dusting his cheeks. "Well, _Wade_, it takes a lot more than an introduction before I'm willing to call anyone daddy." 

"We can work on that." He gave him finger guns, which just made Peter laugh. Deadpool, Wade, was always funny, apparently. 

"So do you come here often?" Peter knew it was probably the lamest line in the book, but he needed to know. 

Wade shook his head. "Nope. This is my first time, but I like to check out the queer clubs in the neighborhood. Makes me feel at home." 

Peter smiled at him and nodded. "Same." 

Pointing to the tattoo on display, Wade smiled. "I like your ink. Be proud of your shit, man." He held a fist up in classic solidarity pose.

It made Peter chuckle and feel a little bolder. He slid around the half circle, dragging his drink with him, and pressed up close to him. He wasn't sure what to say, so he just sat there, sipping his drink and leaning against Wade's arm. Wade didn't seem to mind his silence, filling it with odd stories and recaps of TV shows he'd watched recently. Peter watched him the entire time, asking questions and just enjoying his voice sliding over him. 

A part of his mind was working on other things. He knew what Wade looked like under the suit, knew that he _was_ Wade under the suit. And Wade didn't have that back. He didn't know that he was sitting next to Spiderman right now. That wasn't all that fair. 

"Hey, DP?" Peter wasn't fully proud of the way his voice cracked as he said it. 

"Huh?" Wade didn't seem to understand the significance of what he'd just said at first. Then, his eyes widened and Peter could see Wade staring at his lips. Now, he wasn't sure if it was because it was all he'd seen of Spiderman or if it was because of the blow job, but his face heated up regardless. "Spidey?" The word, when it came, was practically whispered. The only way someone would hear it was if they were as close as Peter was. When Peter gave a slight nod, Wade blinked. "Holy shit." 

"Is that a good holy shit or a bad one?" Peter was nervous. Maybe doing this at work was a bad idea. 

Wade reached out and grabbed his hand. "Oh, it is definitely a good one, baby boy. Shit. Is this why there's those rules about me touching you?" 

For a second he looked murderous and Peter didn't quite get it. Then, he realized what he must think. "Oh, God, no. No, nothing like that. I just.. Didn't really know how to come out with the trans thing and it would be noticeable. Packers don't get erections." 

The muscles of Wade's shoulders relaxed immediately, only to tense back up again. "Did you think I was a transphobe?" He sounded really hurt. 

Peter put his hand on his leg and shook his head earnestly. "No, no. Absolutely not. I just hadn't gotten to the point where I was ready to tell you who I am and being trans would really narrow it down. So I just decided I wasn't really ready to tell you, yet." 

Wade looked at him and Peter could see that knee weakening smile under there. "And you don't mind that I accidentally forced your hand?"

Peter smiled at him. "Nope. I don't mind at all." He glanced at the clock and noted the time. He still had a little while to work the tables before he was ready to leave. "Meet me here at close?" 

Wade glanced at the clock in the corner. "Well, damn. Here I am, eating up all your valuable money making time. I'll be here, baby boy. Wild horses couldn't stop me, or whatever the fuck the phrase is." 

Peter smiled at him and then got up from the table. "If you're not here, I know where you live." He smirked and then walked off. He had some plans tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter finished up the night, anxious to see it end. As much as he liked the people he saw at work, since he was completely empowered to tell a dickwad to leave, tonight he wanted to be done with it. He wanted to go to the back room and change into his regular clothes and come back out to find Wade waiting for him. 

Finally, he could. He'd told Neil that his friend was coming for him and that his name was Wade and to please let him in, so at least he didn't have to deal with that. Neil took the safety of the dancers very seriously. He'd stay and walk everyone to their cars if they had them, offering them Uber rides on his account if they had to go somewhere alone. Peter usually only got out of it because he lived so close by. He appreciated the concern, but he was freaking Spiderman. 

There Wade was, though. Standing in the corner, looking a little nervous. Peter instantly walked over to him and slipped his arm under his and started toward the door. Once they were outside, he looked up at Wade. "Peter. Peter Parker." 

Wade smiled down at him, but Peter could only tell because of a small stream of light in his face. "Wonderful to meet you, Petey." Peter rolled his eyes. "So where am I going, exactly? Not that I'm worried, but a girl has to be worried about her safety, especially with a rake such as you." His voice rose and took on a southern tone, which made Peter laugh and roll his eyes again. 

"My place." When Wade choked, he looked at him. "I'm sorry, was it not clear enough before? The only reason I wasn't comfortable fucking you was because I didn't want to tell you who I am. You know now, so I'd like to have you fuck me. Preferably for a while. I don't have any plans for tomorrow so it would be nice to spend it in bed."

Wade choked again. After some coughs, he wheezed. "Yeah, yeah. I can totally get on board with that plan. Let's do it. My refractory period is pretty great so I can be your little sex doll if you want." 

Peter wanted to stop him, but he didn't. He waited until they were inside his apartment and he turned on the light. "Wade." 

"Hm?" 

"Can I..?" Peter tugged lightly at the hood, not dislodging it but making it clear what he wanted. It took a few seconds, but Wade eventually pulled it down. Finally, Peter was able to look at him, but he didn't have the time. He put his hand on his cheek, making sure that Wade's piercing eyes were on his own. "I know I'm not the most forthright with my emotions. I tend to hide behind things. But I want you to know, this isn't just physical for me. I trust you more than I trust almost anyone else. I value your friendship. I don't know if that's love, or what, but I do know you mean more to me than a friend and definitely more to me than just someone I want to have sex with." Wade smiled, but he looked like he believed him. "With that being said, I really, _really_ want to have sex with you."

Wade laughed. "We can do whatever you want, baby boy." 

Peter smiled. Now that that was out of the way, he was able to look at Wade. He wouldn't lie, the scars were bad, and a little distracting, but he'd been looking at his chin for months now. He was pretty used to it. Underneath the red and white marks was an absolutely phenomenal bone structure, stunning eyes, and lips that looked chapped but still soft and wonderful. Yeah, he definitely wouldn't be mad about being able to see that all the time. 

He leaned up and planted a kiss on him. It took approximately a second and a half for it to get filthy. Wade's tongue slid into his mouth and Peter opened wider, letting his hands move down his shoulders, running across the thick muscles and down his back. He'd wanted to do that for so long. 

A knee slid between his own as he was pushed back into the door. Peter groaned when Wade's thigh rubbed against his clit. Yeah, he wanted this, bad. Regretfully, he pulled out of the kiss. "Bedroom." The word was a little weak sounding, but it didn't seem to matter. Soon, Wade's hands were under his thighs and lifting him up completely, taking him to the bedroom. It was pretty easy to see which was which since the only doors in the place were for his bedroom and the bathroom and they were both open. 

Wade put him down, just at the foot of the bed. Peter grabbed his shirt and tugged it off his body, dropping it on the floor. He was expecting hands on him pretty much immediately, and when they didn't come, he looked up. Wade's eyes weren't on him, they were directed behind him. Turning to see what had caught his attention, he blushed. His vibrator was sitting on top of his bedside table, plugged into its charging dock. 

"So, when's the last time you used that?" Wade's voice sounded thick and that honestly did things to Peter's insides. 

He licked his lips. "Um. Yesterday? When I came home from your place." 

Now Wade's eyes were definitely on him, full of fire. "You came to my place and sucked me off and then came home and masturbated?" When Peter nodded, Wade let out a shaky breath. "You're gonna kill me, baby boy." 

"Not if I can help it." Peter started unbuttoning his jeans. "And if you're a good boy, maybe I'll let you watch some day." He smiled at the choked out sound Wade made with that. Maybe he wasn't some sex kitten, but he also wasn't a blushing virgin. He finished stripping out of his clothes and then laid back on the bed, only pausing to reach for his lube. Wade was just standing there, staring. "We can't get very far if you're wearing all your clothes." 

Wade glanced down at himself, seemingly mystified that he was still dressed. At some point, they'd both lost their shoes, but Peter couldn't remember doing it. Not that it was really all that important in the grand scheme of things. "Oh, you want these off?" 

Peter rolled his eyes. "I've told you, whatever you want. If you want to keep them all on and just pull out your dick, fine, though it might get a little messy. If you want to strip but turn off all the lights, that's fine too. The only thing that isn't fine is that you're not touching me right now."

He seemed torn for a moment. Trying to entice him a little, Peter pulled his knees up, trailing his fingers down his body and then between his legs. A grinding, growling sound came out of Wade's throat as he followed his hands with his eyes. Then, like a whirlwind, his clothes went flying. "If I'm not going to make you toss your dinner, I want the lights on. I want to see that sexy body under me." 

Peter laughed and then crooked his fingers at him. Wade settled over him, and the last thought that he had for a little while as Wade seemingly tried to remove his brain with his kiss, was that he'd been right. He definitely had to spread his legs wide to get around him. 

He was hazy with desire when he realized that Wade's mouth wasn't on his anymore. It was sucking and kissing across his collarbone and down his chest and stomach. Peter had a second to grip the pillow under his head before he realized what his intent was. Then, that mouth was showing him exactly what it could do. 

Short, shallow licks pressed to his clit, just enough to get him used to the sensation. It shouldn't be surprising that Wade knew his way around eating someone out. When Peter let out a tiny moan, he switched it up. Long licks with the flat of his tongue, and then pointed ones with the tip. Peter stopped trying to analyze it after that. He just closed his eyes and let Wade rearrange his legs over his shoulders. All he could concentrate on was dragging air into his lungs as Wade thoroughly took him apart. By the time he was pressing slick fingers inside of him, Peter was a panting, moaning mess. The intrusion had him half sitting up, but Wade reached up and pressed him flat to the bed again. 

It had been a long time since he'd been eaten out. As a matter of fact, it might have been two years ago when him and MJ got high as balls for her birthday and they'd decided to mess around because they'd kind of liked each other. As good as it had been, it had felt awkward afterward. It was when they'd had their agreement to just be friends. 

When he came, he had to put his hand over his mouth. His hips moved on their own, thrusting into Wade's fingers and mouth, completely mindless. Wade just rode it out. Peter screamed into his hand and shook until he finally collapsed. Then, Wade was kissing his way back up his body. 

Wade kissed him and Peter felt like he couldn't keep up at first. Then, his body recovered and he pushed into it, gripping Wade's shoulders and wrapping his legs around his waist. "Do we need a condom?" 

Peter shook his head. He hadn't ovulated in over three years so he really just had to worry about infections. And since Wade couldn't carry them, they were in the clear. Thank God, because when Wade slicked up and slid inside of him, it was amazing. The scars on his dick added a texture that was extremely pleasant. It would have been a shame to lose it to some latex. Peter groaned and pushed up onto him as much as he could, and he was rewarded by a groan from the Wade's mouth. 

Wade started slow and Peter doubted it was for his benefit. Thankfully, it didn't take long before it was a rough and rapid pace, meaning Peter was burying his moans in Wade's neck and scratching down his back. Wade had his face pressed into the pillow, muffling his own sounds. It would have been better to hear him, but again, thin walls. 

They spent hours in bed. Wade made sure that Peter came, over and over again, until he felt like there was no possible way he could ever come again. And then Wade made him come again. 

By the time he was ready to sleep, they had to get up and change the sheets first. They were damp with lube and fluids. They changed the sheets and then showered before they collapsed into them. Peter found that their bodies fit together just right like this, too. Their legs tangled and Wade had his arm around his waist. He fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

He wasn't going to let Wade go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. I really wanted to make an epilogue for this, which is why it's taken so long to post this last chapter. But I can't actually think of anything for it so... Here's the end.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> PS, comments give me life.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I would like to point out, I am not a trans man. I *am* non-binary, but, while there are similarities, there's no way I can know first hand what being a trans man going through puberty would be like. I did my best to be respectful and as accurate as my research could make me, but let me know if there's anything that you find absolutely bonkers or flat out wrong. And especially if there's anything that is insulting or ignorant. I love to learn about other people's experiences.


End file.
